


A Brighter Future

by ranguvar82



Series: Silence and Strength [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Gen, Thaddeus is a major jerk, Warlock is genderfluid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22788628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranguvar82/pseuds/ranguvar82
Summary: Warlock comes out as genderfluid. Thaddeus takes it very poorly, and Harriet has a revelation.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Warlock Dowling, Harriet Dowling & Warlock Dowling
Series: Silence and Strength [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630903
Comments: 53
Kudos: 322
Collections: Ineffable Cats





	1. Breakdowns Come in all Packages

A Brighter Future

Chapter One: Breakdowns Come In All Packages

Warlock Dowling, age thirteen, recently out as genderfluid to his parents, Harriet and Thaddeus, is currently under the covers in his room, fighting off a major panic attack. He clenches his fists, tears pouring down his bruised face. He should have known that his asshole father would have reacted the way he did. His mother has taken the news as she took everything, with an air of calm detachment and a bland “That’s nice dear.” But his father had hit the ceiling, screaming at him that no son of his was going to be a fucking homo. When Warlock had tried to explain that he had no idea whether he was gay, straight, or other and that being fluid simply meant he changed genders every now and again, his father’s face had turned as red as a tomato. The next thing Warlock knew was a fist in his eye. He had escaped before Thaddeus(he refuses to think of that asshole as his father anymore) could do some real damage.

He wants to go back and never have this stupid conversation. He wants his father to realize what a raging jerk he’s always been and for once put Warlock and his mother first. He wants…

Warlock swipes tears from his eyes. He wants Nanny. Thirteen years old, and he wants his Nanny. Nanny would have accepted him without batting an eye. Nanny would have never let Thaddeus be so cruel to his own son. He reaches under his pillow and pulls out a small music box. Nanny had left it here when she and Brother Francis had gone shortly before his eleventh birthday. Warlock winds it up, hugging it close and missing the one person that loved him unconditionally.

“Warlock.” His mother has come into the room at some point, and is gently shaking the covers. “Warlock, honey, I know you aren’t asleep.”

He sticks his head out, blinking at her. “Go away.” She gulps, and that’s when he notices she’s carrying her travel case. “Mom, what…?”

“Sweetie, I need you to get dressed and pack a bag. Don’t ask questions, just do as I say.” Harriet is fighting back tears, and Warlock slides out of bed and grabs his own overnight bag from the closet, tossing clothes into it. He glances at his bedside clock. It’s shortly after midnight. Whatever this is, it’s serious. He throws on the clothes he was wearing the day before.

“Can I bring my box?”

Harriet looks shocked. “Of course! I would never ask you to leave it. But please, honey, hurry.” Once he’s packed, she hustles them out of the house through the back door to the rear drive where a car is sitting, idiling away. “Get in.” Warlock slides into the passenger seat. Harriet tosses their bags into the back and then gets in the driver’s seat and tears off down the dark road.

Warlock is feeling completely lost. “Mom, what is going on?”

Harriet pulls off to the side and starts sobbing. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry. I should have had the guts to do this a long time ago. I thought that if I didn’t rock the boat, if I was the dutiful wife, it would be enough. I should have realized...” her tears overwhelm her, and Warlock places his hand on her arm. “Mom...it’s okay. You did your best, and at least you didn’t go apeshit when I came out.”

Harriet takes a deep breath. “It’s...not going to be easy, but you know that I love you, no matter what, right?”

Warlock nods. “I know. I love you too.” Harriet smiles and restarts the car, heading south and as far away from Thaddeus Dowling as possible.

Warlock glances out the window as the landscape changes, eyes blinking as he struggles to stay awake. The steady hum of the wheels combined with the stillness of the country they’re driving through finally takes its toll, and Warlock falls asleep.

He is rudely and violently awoken by a loud BANG that sends the car lurching forward and causes him to smack his head rather hard against the dashboard. “FUCK!”

“WARLOCK!” His mother is gawping at him in shock. “Watch your language!”

“Sorry.” He rubs his forehead, wincing at the goose egg he can feel starting to form. “What happened?”

“We blew a tire.” She reaches into the glove box and grabs a flashlight. “Stay here. I’m going to get the spare out.”

“You can change a tire?!”

Harriet laughs at the shock in her son’s voice. “Yes, I can. Wait here. I won’t be long.” Indeed, it is only about a minute later that she comes back, looking disgusted. “We don’t have a spare tire. Damn it!” She slams her hand on the wheel, hard. “Figures we’d break down in a spot with no fucking cell reception.”

“Language, Mom.” Warlock snarks, and Harriet glares at him.

“Smartass. We can’t stay in the car all night. What do we do?”

Warlock thinks for a moment, then brightens. “About a half mile back there was a driveway. Maybe the people that live down it could give us a hand, or at least offer to put us up for the night.”

Harriet gives him a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Brilliant idea. Grab your bag.” Warlock makes a face and wipes off the mom slobber before getting his bag and climbing out. Harriet follows, flashlight in hand. “You said it was about a half mile?” Warlock nods. “Well, it’s your expedition. Lead the way.”

It takes them almost twenty minutes to navigate the dark road, and another ten to make it down the long drive to the cottage tucked away in the woods. There’s a light blazing from inside, and Warlock sighs in relief. At least they won’t be getting some old codger out of his warm bed at two in the morning.

He walks up to the door, rehearsing in his head what he’s going to say to the owner before lifting a hand and knocking. There’s a slight commotion inside, and the door opens. “Hey, I’m really sorry to bother you, but our car broke down and...” he finally gets a good look at the man in the doorway. “BROTHER FRANCIS?!” Sure enough, it’s him. The wonky teeth are gone, and so is the hair, but it’s him. He’s gaping at Warlock and Harriet. “Warlock?! What on...oh, but where are my manners? Come in, both of you. It’s cold out there.” He ushers them both into a very cozy room with mismatched furniture and a roaring fire. But Warlock only has eyes for the other person in the room. They’re wearing a dark blue robe, and their hair is shorter, but he knows who they are. He would recognize them in a pitch dark room. “NANNY!”

Crowley blinks, then holds out his arms. Warlock, who has recently decided that thirteen is far too old to hug anyone, bursts into tears and runs into his Nanny’s embrace, sobbing like a baby. Crowley wraps his arms around his Hellspawn, tears pricking at his own eyes.

Harriet quietly explains their predicament to Aziraphale. “And we’d be so grateful if you could maybe drive us to a hotel, or...” Crowley violently shakes his head, then gestures to the cottage.

“What my husband is saying, my dear, is that you are both more than welcome to stay here for as long as you need. We have more than enough room. And I doubt you’d be able to pull your son away from Crowley, and vice versa.”

Harriet looks over to where Warlock and Nanny are ‘talking’, their fingers moving so fast she’s having trouble seeing them. Warlock had insisted(very vocally and at great length) that he be given lessons in sign language after Nanny left, just in case. “They do seem rather attached. Brother Francis..”

“Aziraphale. Or Ezra, if that’s easier for you.”

The events of the day suddenly overwhelm her, and Harriet bursts into tears. “I...don’t know how to thank you...it’s a miracle that we found you...”

Aziraphale smiles. “Well, my dear, miracles are what we do.”


	2. Reunions, Questions, and Explanations

Chapter Two: Reunions, Questions, and Explanations

“Now, my dear, I think perhaps both you and Warlock could use a bit of a rest.” Aziraphale subtly snaps his fingers. “There’s a spare room down the hall, all aired out and with clean linens on the beds. You’ll feel much better, I promise.”

Harriet yawns hugely, looking over at Warlock, who is leaning against Crowley as he fights to stay awake. “You’re right. We could use a decent sleep. Come on, Warlock honey. Bedtime.” Warlock shakes his head and presses closer to Crowley.

“Wanna stay with Nanny.” His voice is petulant, the voice of a very tired boy. Crowley gently kisses the top of his head.

‘Your Mum’s right, sweetling. It’s time for bed. Come on, off you pop.’

Warlock’s pout grows deeper. “Wanna stay with you.”

Crowley moves so he’s staring directly into Warlock’s eyes. ‘Bed, Hellspawn. Either under your own power or I shall be forced to carry you.’ Warlock stares at him, and he stares back, unblinking.

“You couldn’t carry me. I’m too big!” Warlock decrees, then yelps in shock when Nanny stands up and tosses him over her shoulder as easily as if he were an empty sack. “Nanny! Put me down!” Crowley twists his head and smirks at Warlock. He looks over at Aziraphale, who is struggling not to laugh. “Tell Nanny to put me down!”

“I’m afraid I’ve never been able to tell Crowley to do anything. Best let him carry you off to bed.”

Warlock sighs. “Fine.” Crowley smirks in triumph and heads towards the bedroom, Harriet following.

Warlock allows himself to be tucked in and fussed over. “Nanny, look in my bag!” Crowley looks confused, but does so. His eyes widen and fill with tears when he finds the box. Warlock is sniffling too. “I...I kept it. Made sure to take really good care of it. It still works! Play it?”

Crowley swipes away tears and nods, winding up the box. ‘I missed you.’

“Me too. Why’d you leave?”

Crowley sighs. ‘We’ll explain everything in the morning, I promise. Sleep.’

Warlock snuggles under the warm blankets, sleep finally claiming him.

Crowley staggers back into the parlor. Aziraphale is stretched out on the couch, Treble in his lap. Crowley glares at their cat, and Treble stares right back, purring. ‘Move, mischief.’ Treble yawns, then settles in more firmly. Crowley’s pout gets deeper. ‘Anngeelll….’

Aziraphale rubs Treble’s back. “What? You were the one that wanted a cat, my love. And you can stop that pouting. You and I both know that you love this bundle of fur as much as you love me.”

‘Wanna snugggllee...’

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. “Then for Someone’s sake stop your pouting and get over here. Treble will move, you know that.” He turns out to be right. Treble, more than thrilled at having both his Daddies snuggling, begins purring so loud his body vibrates. Crowley rubs his torn ear. “There now. All happy?” Crowley nods, pressing against his love.

The next morning dawns clear and cold. Harriet is up first, and she performs her morning routine before dressing and heading out of the room. Aziraphale is in the kitchen cooking eggs and bacon, and Harriet is lured by the delicious smell. “That smells wonderful.”

Aziraphale turns and smiles at her. “Oh, Mrs. Dowling, you’re awake!”

Harriet makes a face. “Just Harriet, please.” Aziraphale nods.

“Harriet, then. Have a seat, the first batch is almost done!”

Harriet sits at the table. “First batch?” The oven dings, and Aziraphale beams and pulls out a tray of the most delicious looking cinnamon rolls she’s ever seen. They’re all easily the size of her head. “Oh...”

Aziraphale arranges a serving of eggs, three slices of bacon, and a roll on a plate, placing it in front of Harriet. “Now, do you prefer coffee or tea of a morning?” Harriet, who is gawping at the sheer amount of food, has trouble answering at first.

“Uh...coffee. With milk.” Aziraphale beams.

“Coffee it is!” He snaps his fingers, and a steaming cup appears on the counter behind him. “There you are, my dear! Eat up!”

Harriet digs into the eggs, which are cooked perfectly. “’S so good!” After that, she doesn’t say much.

Warlock staggers into the kitchen, gaping at the food. “Are those cinnamon rolls?!”

“Indeed they are! Come, sit.” Warlock practically throws himself in a chair. Aziraphale fixes him a plate. “Now, what would you like to drink?”

“Coffee?”

Harriet swallows a piece of bacon(cooked to perfect crispness, something she has NEVER been able to do). “I’ve told you, you are still too young for coffee.”

“I could make you some hot chocolate?” Warlock nods, and Aziraphale snaps up a mug. “There we are!” He turns at a sound. “Oh, there you are, you lazy serpent.”

Crowley saunters into the kitchen, Treble riding on his shoulders. He plonks into a chair and holds out his hands. ‘ROLLS! GIMMMEE!’ Aziraphale rolls his eyes and places the tray in front of him.

Warlock gapes as he watches Nanny shovel the giant rolls into her mouth, the black and white cat still perched on her shoulders. “Uhh...”

“You’ll have to forgive Crowley. He’s quite greedy when it comes to cinnamon rolls. Oh, and that bundle of fur and mischief on his shoulders is Treble.”

Warlock reaches over and gently rubs Treble’s head. The cat sniffs at him, then purrs. ‘He likes you.’

After breakfast is done and the dishes cleaned, they all convene in the parlor. Aziraphale is the first to speak. “Now, we promised you explanations. But first it’s your turn.”

Warlock gulps. “I...made a stupid mistake.” Harriet pulls him close. “I...I’m genderfluid, and my...Thaddeus, when I told him...he blew up at me.”

Aziraphale can see the rage building in Crowley’s eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

Warlock nods, trying not to cry. “He...punched me. In my face.” Crowley stands up and heads for the door. Aziraphale runs after him.

“Crowley, love, what are you doing?”

‘Gonna go kill that asshole.’

Aziraphale places his hand on his arm. “Darling, as much as I know you want to punish that no account bastard, killing him will accomplish nothing. Right now, Warlock needs our support, not revenge on his father.”

‘Says the angel who threw his boss into an event horizon.’ He gulps at Aziraphale’s glare.

“That...is NOT the same thing, and you bloody well know it.” Crowley nods, looking cowed. “Now, you are perhaps the most qualified here to help Warlock through his gender fluidity. I suggest you start.”

Crowley nods, and they head back into the parlor. Harriet smiles uneasily at them. “Everything alright?”

Aziraphale nods. “Tickety boo! Now, we have some things to explain about why we were both working for you in the first place. But before we do, you’d better brace yourselves. This can be a bit daunting.”

“What can...” Harriet yelps in shock when white wings burst out of Aziraphale’s back. “You...you...” She looks over at Crowley, who is now sporting black wings. “Win..wings...you have wings...”

Warlock gawps, then grins. “THAT’S SO COOL!” Crowley grins, then removes his glasses, letting them both see his snake eyes. “WOW! NANNY, YOU’RE A SNAKE! AWESOME!”

Aziraphale laughs. “Technically, my dear, he’s a demon. And I’m an angel. And, well, we thought you were the Antichrist.” He looks over at Harriet. “I know it’s a lot...”

Harriet shakes her head. “No, actually, it explains so much.” Crowley grins at her. “But...my son’s not the Antichrist. Right?”

“Right. The real Anti..well, I suppose he’s the ex-Antichrist now is a young man named Adam. Same age as Warlock, actually. Born in the same hospital. He...” Aziraphale gulps. “The night Warlock was born. There was...a mix up...”

Warlock gulps. “It’s okay, Brother Francis. I already know.” Harriet looks shocked. “I found the DNA test, Mom. I didn’t want to make you mad, so I never told you.” Harriet blinks back tears. “You’re still my mom.”

Harriet kisses him on the head. “And you will always be my baby.” She looks over at the demon and angel(and isn’t that something to wrap your head around). “My family has a history of heart problems, so I got Warlock tested to see if he carried the gene. That’s when I found out. I never told Thad.”

“I’m just glad that fucking asshole isn’t my real dad.”

“Language!” Both Harriet and Aziraphale say at the same time. Warlock and Crowley look at each other, then Warlock bursts into laughter and Crowley grins. ‘Great minds, Hellspawn.’

“Nanny?”

‘Yes?’

Warlock bites his lip. “Did...you only take care of me because you thought I was the Antichrist?”

Crowley shakes his head. ‘At first it was just a job, but then something happened. I found myself loving you. It broke my heart to have to leave. Forgive me?’ Warlock gives him a tight hug.

“Nanny, you know I can’t be mad at you.” Crowley hugs him back, sighing in relief. “Now, I want to know why you can’t talk.” Crowley glares at him and points to his throat. “I know! How did it happen?”

Aziraphale speaks up. “That will have to come in its own time, and when Crowley is ready to tell you.”

Warlock smiles innocently at Aziraphale. “Do you know?”

Aziraphale glares at him. “I do, and as I said, it is not my decision to tell you.”

“But...”

Crowley gives Warlock his Nanny Glare. ‘No buts, Hellspawn. I will tell you, I promise. Just not now.’

Warlock sighs, knowing he’s lost this argument. “Fine.”

Crowley smirks in triumph.


	3. Music Boxes and Memories

Chapter Three: Music Boxes and Memories

Warlock stretches, peeking out from under the very warm covers of his very comfy bed. It has been a week and a half since he and his mother had left the waste of space she was still unfortunately married to(but hopefully not for long) and by what could only be described as a literal miracle, found their way to the home of his former nanny and gardener, who were a demon and angel respectively.

Warlock had been somewhat less than shocked to find this out. Harriet had been surprised, but after thinking about it for several moments, had decreed that it explained a great deal. Both angel and demon had been quite relieved, Crowley especially.

Warlock smacks his lips together, grimacing at his morning breath. He climbs out of bed and heads to the bathroom. After brushing his teeth and changing from his pajamas into an old T shirt and jeans, he heads out to the kitchen.

As usual, Aziraphale is there, humming to himself as he cooks up yet another delicious breakfast. There’s cinnamon rolls, as always(Nanny is practically addicted to them, and Warlock is getting dangerously close) but sometimes there’s also eclairs, crème puffs, omelets(with every sort of filling imaginable), and, like this morning, Aziraphale’s favorite, crepes. “Morning, Warlock!” He flips over a crepe(and it flips perfectly, as if Aziraphale would allow for anything else) and slides it onto a plate. “The crepes are almost ready. Hot cocoa is on the counter, help yourself.” Warlock gets his cocoa, which is of course exactly how he likes it, and slides into a chair, watching the angel bustle around the kitchen in his Dickensian clothes covered by a white apron with pink flowers.

“Don’t you ever sleep?”

Aziraphale shakes his head. “Never learned how, I’m afraid. I...I used to say it was because ‘Virtue is ever Vigilant’, but Heaven...” his face darkens, and for a moment Warlock feels afraid, “after what they did to Zop...I mean to Crowley, I’m very much inclined towards the belief that Virtue left that place long ago.” He clenches his fists, eyes dark, then blinks and smiles. “Crowley, on the other hand, can literally sleep anywhere. And I mean that. I once caught him sleeping on the ceiling.” He piles Warlock’s plate high with food, then turns at a slight noise. “Harriet. Morning.”

Harriet smiles. “It all looks delicious, as ever. Ezra(her tongue still gets tangled if she tries to say Aziraphale’s real name), do you think Crowley would mind driving me up to London later today? I know it’s a long way, but I need to talk to my lawyer about starting divorce proceedings.”

“I doubt he’d mind at all, my dear. Just be warned that he invented the phrase ‘speed demon.’” A soft huff makes him grin. “Don’t look so put out, love. You know I’m right.” He lets his appreciative gaze rake up and down his love’s body. “You look ravishing, darling. Going for a bit of a mix today?”

Crowley grins, then slides into their seat, right in front of the giant rolls. ‘Thought maybe I’d be both for a bit. Been male for two months now.’

“I do know how you love change.”

Warlock stares at his Nanny, who is quite clearly presenting as neither male nor female, but a combination of both. “Nan..I mean...umm...”

Crowley grins at their Hellspawn. ‘It’s okay. You can still call me Nanny.’

“Hard for me to think of you as anything else.”

Crowley pats his hand. ‘I know, darling.’ They take a gulp of coffee, tapping their fingers on the table. Aziraphale, who has been almost constantly by his demon’s side for six thousand years, and was by his angel’s side for almost four hundred, knows instantly that something is bothering them.

“Out with it, Crowley.” They stare at him. “I know your signs, my love. What’s troubling you?”

‘Do you think maybe I should tell Warlock about...you know?’

Aziraphale smiles softly. “That is your decision, my demon. I know it still effects you, and it always will, but if you think he’s ready to find out, then yes.” He blinks. “Wait. Where’s Treble?”

Crowley grins. ‘Out in the garden, trying to catch lizards. He should be meowing to come in any second.’ As if on cue, a loud MEOW is heard. Crowley, grinning like a loon, snaps their fingers. A streak of black and white comes barreling around the corner, leaping onto Crowley’s chair and settling on their shoulders, mewing indignantly. Aziraphale gives him a mock glare.

“Really, Treble. Trying to kill another creature. Shameful.”

‘Mew.’

“Yes, I am quite aware you are a cat. But we give you very yummy food, there’s no need for you to hunt lizards.”

‘Mew, mew.’

“Quiet Daddy is not the best role model in this case. Don’t look so indignant, Crowley, you know it’s true. You should not encourage him.”

‘MEW!’

“Well, that’s up to you. But you and I both know I have the softer lap.”

‘mew.’

“That’s what I thought.”

Warlock finds his voice first. “You can talk to cats?!”

Aziraphale nods. “All animals, actually. Though I don’t tend to do it often. Most aren’t great conversationalists.” He scritches Treble’s ears. “This one isn’t too bad, though.”

“What about Nanny?”

‘I can’t talk to anyone, Hellspawn.’ They grin at Warlock’s huff of annoyance. ‘But yes, Treble does understand my Signs, and I can decipher his meows. He’s a very special cat.’

‘Mew!’

“Don’t encourage him, Crowley, he already has a big enough ego.” Aziraphale bursts out laughing at the identical looks on the cat and demon’s faces.

After breakfast, and Crowley’s promise to drive Harriet into London later that day,(and Aziraphale extracts an oath that Crowley will obey the speed limit) they take Warlock on a tour of the cottage while Aziraphale and Harriet discuss Thaddeus.

“This place is so cool, Nanny.”

‘Thanks. Come on, wanna show you something.’ They lead Warlock towards a pair of double doors, take a deep breath, and push them open. ‘After you.’

Warlock steps into a giant room. The ceiling is covered in stars, and everywhere he looks there’s a different musical instrument. He counts sixteen guitars, both electric and acoustic, twelve drum sets, fourteen trumpets, six grand pianos, and even more instruments he’s never seen. But even more prominent than the instruments are the music boxes. They’re arranged on row after row of shelves stacked to the ceiling. Warlock doesn’t think he’s ever seen so many. They range in size from smaller than a hummingbird’s egg to almost four feet tall. “Wow!”

Crowley smiles softly, running their hand along one of the pianos before taking out a notebook and pen. They indicate for Warlock to sit on the bench. ‘Now, I know you know sign, but I have a lot to say, and writing it is easier.’ Warlock sits, and Crowley writes for several minutes, then hands the paper over, nodding at him to read.

‘ _I used to be an angel. (Specifically, a Seraph, but we’ll discuss the Tiers another time) This probably comes as a shock, but it’s true. I won’t bore you with details about The Fall, and how angels became demons. That’s not this story. This story is about how an angel who had done no wrong was cruelly treated by those who should have loved him._

_You see, I wasn’t any ordinary angel. I was the Angel of Song. My Gift was my Voice. I could use it to create, destroy, and anything else I wished. My Mother..yes, I am referring to God.. gave me a Task. Sing the stars and galaxies into being. So I set about my Task, not minding the loneliness, as it kept me away from the hypocrites that were my siblings._

_Then one day I met an angel that was unlike any I’d ever known. A soft, gentle Principality with the bluest eyes and most dazzling smile I’d ever known, and I fell so far into love that I got lost in it. Happily for me, this angel felt the same, and we...well, I suppose the closest translation into an Earth tongue for what we did is ‘got married’. I was beyond happy. I had my love, and I had my stars._

_But then...Gabriel and the others came for me. I had known they were jealous that I got such an important Task, but I never realized the depths they would sink to. Gabriel(who by the way is a tool and a fucking wanker, he and your asshole father would get on great) told me that they had come to a Decision. I was no longer worthy of my Gift. And so...he tore it out of me._

_I would try to convey the pain I felt at being ripped apart, but there’s no words in any tongue that could do it justice. Suffice to say that my screams echoed through the Cosmos. When my Voice was gone, Michael and Uriel, two of my former siblings, dragged me to the edge of Heaven and threw me off._

_So now you know why I cannot speak._

_Crowley, Demon of Silence, formerly the Seraph Zophiel, Angel of Song.’_

Warlock, who has certainly not started crying while reading, stands up and pulls his Nanny into a tight hug.


	4. Lessons From A Demon and Cooking With An Angel

Chapter Four: Lessons From a Demon and Cooking with an Angel

“So, Crowley,” Harriet begins, looking over the top of her drink at the demon seated across from her. They’re in a quaint little bar in London. It’s one Harriet’s never seen or heard of, but Crowley seems to know quite well. Just an hour before, Harriet had been in her lawyers’ offices, setting the paperwork in motion to once more become Harriet Samuels. “Are all demons...you know, fluid like you?”

Crowley shakes their head and scribbles on a piece of paper, handing it over. ‘No. See, the thing you have to know is that demons, as well as angels, don’t really have...gender in the way you mortals perceive it. Right now I’m presenting as non-conforming, and that’s what most mortals will see me as. Same if I’m male or female presenting. I have the look, but not the equipment.’

“Equipment? You mean you don’t have...” Harriet blushes and gestures downward. Crowley nods, handing over another sheet.

“Smooth down there, unless I decide I want genitalia. Same with Aziraphale, even though he comes across as gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide. We’ve done it, manifested one type or the other over the years, to fit in, but quite frankly, we never saw the point. Same with sex itself. It’s quite horribly messy, and quite frankly you mortals seem to make far too big a deal of it. And one major advantage of presenting female without having the bits is I don’t have to deal with Eve’s Curse.’

Harriet looks at them in shock. “You...you don’t get periods?!” They shake their head. “You lucky bitch! I’d give my soul for that!” Crowley glares at her. “I didn’t mean it liter...unless, can you?”

‘No, I cannot and more important I will not. I have no use for souls, Harriet. Not even the Big Guy trades in those.’ They grin at the look on Harriet’s face. ‘It’s true. Lucifer HATES it when some mortal tries to offer him their soul. They’ve got free will for a reason.’

“Don’t angels and demons have Free Will too?”

‘Not to the extent that mortals do. Aziraphale and I have more than most, both by dint of being on Earth for so long and also due to the fact we’ve severed ties with our former employees, but neither of us can change who and what we are on a fundamental level. I cannot go back to being an angel, and Aziraphale...’

“Could...could he become a demon?” Harriet asks hesitantly. Crowley gulps and nods.

‘He could, but considering that he threw the Archangel Fucking Gabriel into a black hole and remained an angel is a very high factor in his favor. It’s still a fear of mine though.’

Harriet takes another sip of her drink, which has somehow magically refilled itself. “I sometimes wish I could go back and change things. Thad...when we were first married, I was swept away by the glamour of being the wife of such an important person. And he was so charming and charismatic. He convinced me to drop out of pre med to marry him.” Crowley blinks at her, and she smiles. “Wouldn’t believe it to look at me, would you? But yeah, I was going to be a doctor.”

‘What kind?’

“I wanted to go into pediatrics. I had a sister, Jenny, who died when she was young. Leukemia. I decided that I wanted to help sick kids get better.”

‘How old were you?’

Harriet smiles sadly. “I was twelve. She was six. Watching her struggle, it made me determined that no kid would have to go through what we did.” She downs her drink in one gulp, slamming it back on the table. “My whole life, I’d been planning one thing, then along comes this man who manages to convince me that my real dream is marrying him and becoming the dutiful housewife and mother. Don’t get me wrong, I love Warlock with all my heart, even if he isn’t mine. But a part of me will always regret my decision.”

Crowley passes over another sheet of paper. ‘You can always go back, you know.’

Harriet shakes her head. “I couldn’t afford it, and now with having to pay for the divorce, I’ll be seriously strapped for cash. I was going to try and find a job in the village so I could start paying rent to you and Ez...” Crowley shakes their head, violently. “Well, we can’t just stay for free!”

‘Sure you can. We have the room, and we don’t exactly need the money. But if you do feel that you’re intruding, well, the house down the road from us is empty, and I happen to know that the realtor is eager to sell. The previous owners left quite suddenly.’ They’re grinning like a devil, and Harriet rolls her eyes in mock exasperation.

“And did you have something to do with that?”

They shake their head. ‘Not me. My beloved angel. If there’s one thing Aziraphale hates, it’s ignorance disguised as piety. He did the same thing to the previous Vicar. Made it...advisable for him to leave.’

Harriet giggles.

Later that night, after they’ve returned from London to find that Aziraphale and Warlock had combined forces in the kitchen to cook a very lovely roast(and Aziraphale had sung Warlock’s praises, declaring that the child could become a chef if they so wished), the four of them sit in the parlor and talk over the events of the day. Warlock looks over at Nanny. “So, when you’re a girl, you have a different name, right?”

‘Yep. Antonia.’

Warlock frowns. “Not sure what the female equivalent to my name would be. Don’t think I want to call myself Witchia.” Crowley laughs in their quiet way.

‘You don’t have to call yourself the opposite of your name. Just pick one that you like.’

Warlock ponders this. “I always did like the name Jenna.” Harriet feels tears prick her eyes. “Mom? Is...that not a good name?”

Harriet pulls him into a one armed hug. “No, sweetie, it’s a great name. It just makes me think of someone.”

“Who?”

“I’ll tell you about her later.”

Aziraphale looks over at Crowley, curiosity on his face. ‘Later, angel.’ Aziraphale nods, satisfied. ‘So, Hellspawn, how did you like cooking?’

Warlock lights up. “It was so much fun! I never knew so much care went into preparing food. I thought it would be boring, but it wasn’t. Aziraphale took us to the grocers, and he showed me how important it was to pick the right cut of meat, and to tell how fresh the vegetables are. The fresher, the better.”

Aziraphale grins. “He did ask me why I don’t just...” he snaps his fingers, “and I told him that miracled food doesn’t have the same taste and is not as rewarding as food made by hand. That, by the way, is why I love mortal food so much. Because I can taste the love that goes into making it. Well...most of it.”

Harriet grins. “Have you always loved cooking?”

Aziraphale nods. “Yes, but until we moved here I never really had the chance to expand my skills. I was too busy worrying about what Heaven would think. It’s quite refreshing to not give two solid fucks about that, let me tell you.”

Crowley grins at their love. ‘Language, angel.’

Aziraphale smirks, then replies in a language that neither Harriet or Warlock have ever heard. “ **Oh, would you prefer me speak like this, my demon?** ”

‘Smart ass.’ Aziraphale smirks.

“ **Your smart ass, my heart.”**

Crowley leans over and kisses him, sweet and slow. ‘Don’t I know it.’

Warlock frowns. “Eww, kissing.” Crowley smirks at him.

‘Watch it, Hellspawn, or I’ll give him a lap dance right in front of you.’ Warlock looks aghast, but Aziraphale’s face lights up.

“ **WOULD YOU?!”**

‘Some other time, Angel. Now, please switch back to English.’ 

“Spoilsport.” 

Harriet bites her lip, trying not to laugh. “So what language was that?” 

“Enochian. Angel and demon language. It’s also the language we use when Crowley is Signing.” Warlock starts to open his mouth. “Before you say anything, yes, Crowley did teach you some basic...VERY basic Enochian Sign. But most of what you learned after was mortal sign language, correct?” 

“Yeah, I learned both American and British sign.” 

Crowley picks up the thread of the conversation. ‘Since I’m the Demon of Silence, I can understand all forms of non verbal communication.’ They reach up and rub Treble’s chin. ‘I didn’t invent sign language, the humans did that, but let me tell you, it made my life a lot easier, since as Aziraphale says, mortals can’t understand Enochian Sign beyond the very basics.  It’s also why I tend to prefer writing when communicating with mortals. Not all of you know sign language, and I’ve been mistaken for deaf as well as mute quite a few times.’ 

“How many languages can you write in?” Warlock asks. 

‘All of them.’ 

“And sign in?”

‘All of them. I even know Morse Code.’ They grin at the eager look on Warlock’s face. ‘Why, Hellspawn, did you want lessons?’ 

“Yeah...if that’s okay.”

‘That’s more than okay.’ 


	5. Fortune's Wheel A-Turning

Chapter Five: Fortune’s Wheel A-Turning

LONDON, THE DOWLING RESIDENCE

Thaddeus ‘Thad’ Dowling is in a decidedly piss poor mood. First that offspring of his had announced that he wasn’t really a boy, as if he could have been anything else! Then Harriet had taken the boy and run off somewhere! Thad had let her go, knowing that sooner or later she would come crawling back to him, apologetic and contrite, ready to resume the role of dutiful housewife and hostess that she was meant for.

But when one month went by with no word, he began to get angry. When all the private detectives he hired to find her failed one after another, he became furious. Didn’t she know that he had a reputation to maintain?!

The sound of the doorbell rouses him from his thoughts. “Yeah?” The man standing there looks like a wimpy version of his son, who is already a big enough wimp as it is. Thad blames that freaky dummy Nanny for that. “What do you want?”

“Thaddeus Dowling?”

“Yeah.”

Wimpy hands him an envelope. “You’ve been served, Sir.” Wimpy turns on his heels and walks away. Thad looks down at the envelope before ripping it open.

“THAT FUCKING WHORE! SHE CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!”

Written on a folded piece of paper in bold legal font are the words DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE.

Rage fills Thad. “If that BITCH thinks she’s divorcing me, she’s got another think coming!” He storms into the house, slamming the door so hard the windows shake.

A COTTAGE IN THE SOUTH DOWNS

Harriet knocks twice on the front door, balancing a covered dish in one hand, Warlock beside her. It is a week now since they moved out of Ezra and Crowley’s cottage into the one down the road(and though Crowley will deny it until he’s blue in the...fingers, he cried for three days after), and Aziraphale has invited them over for dinner nearly every night since.

“Harriet! Welcome! And...is it Warlock or Jenna today, my dear?” Aziraphale asks, snapping his fingers so that the casserole is on the counter.

“Jenna,” she says, still a bit unused to being so easily accepted. Right now she’s wearing a dark blue blouse and leggings, with just a hint of makeup. Aziraphale beams.

“Well, Jenna, don’t just stand there, come in! I know Anthony will be thrilled to see you.” Jenna grins and dashes inside where Crowley is waiting.

“Nanny!”

‘Jenna. You look lovely.’ He tilts his head. ‘Though you do need some pointers with your makeup.’

Jenna laughs, hugging him. “I know. Mom tried to help, but I ended up looking like a clown, so I had to wash most of it off.” Harriet cuffs her lightly on the back of the head. “Mom! It’s true!”

Harriet gives her a mock glare. “You did not look like a clown. More like a mime.” The three of them exchange glances before bursting into laughter.

‘Well, I can certainly show you how to put makeup on proper.’

“Any lessons will have to wait. The roast is ready, and Harriet, whatever you made smells delicious.” Aziraphale bustles them to the table, which is of course perfectly set, everything where it should be. Well, almost everything. “Treble, please get out of my seat.” Treble blinks at him. “You know the Rules. No begging at the table.” Treble stretches, then saunters across the tablecloth(Aziraphale closes his eyes in pain) and clambers onto Crowley’s shoulders, smirking at the world from his favorite perch. “You, my dear, are a bad influence on our cat.” Crowley just beams as Treble’s purr gets louder.

After a very delicious dinner is eaten and dishes are washed, everyone sits in the parlor to catch up. Harriet has gotten a part time job at The Speckled Giraffe, sweeping floors, running food, and whatever else Miss Darcy can think for her to do. “It’s hard work, but for the first time in a long time, the money I’m earning is all mine. Ezra, thank you so much for your help in opening that account.”

“You are very welcome, my dear. Now, how goes...” Harriet’s face falls.

“I got another message from him today. It was...would you believe it was even worse than the last two? He’s determined to drag this out as long as possible, and he’s using every dirty trick and tactic he has to drag me through the mud. He threatened to use Jenna against me. Though of course he won’t acknowledge her. The worst thing is, he’s got the money and clout to make this a living hell for me.”

Crowley and Aziraphale exchange glances. “Harriet, apart from your husband, who in the political scene puts a great deal of emphasis on the importance of family to maintain a certain facade?”

“Huh?”

Crowley rolls his eyes. ‘Who besides Dickhole Dowling is a huge fucking hypocrite?’

Harriet ponders for a few moments. “I’d have to say Roger Freeman. He’s always seen with his wife and kids, and always going on about how important the family unit is, but everyone knows he bangs anything that moves.”

Aziraphale grins. “Would that include members of the same sex?” Harriet nods. “Excellent. Crowley, my love, this is your bailiwick.”

Harriet frowns. “What is going on?”

Crowley smirks like, well, a demon and hands her a sheet of paper. ‘Aziraphale and I have been planning this for a while, but we didn’t want to execute it unless you were fully on board(Angel’s idea, not mine). The only way that Dickhole is going to grant you a divorce is if the only other choice was ruin and scandal on his part. So we thought for a long time what we could do to thoroughly decimate his reputation. We’re going to make it so that he was caught being buggered. But Aziraphale insists that it has to be someone just as bad as him.’

Harriet grins. “Roger is definitely as bad. So where would this take place? An alley? A seedy motel?”

‘That’s up to you.’

“Motel. Especially since that’s the last place Mr. “I expect room service everywhere I go because I am Important” would be caught dead in. But how are you going to make this fake scandal into a real one?”

Crowley’s smile gets even wickeder. ‘Harriet, by the time I’m done, this scandal will be as real as you and me.’ He pulls out his phone, taps a few buttons, then types furiously. ‘There is now a rumor floating around on Twitter that Thaddeus Dowling, the American ambassador, was caught ‘in a love nest with Roger Freeman.’

“What if people check?”

‘Not a problem. There’s links floating around that lead to an article with some very clear and damning pictures. And well, you know how quickly information, even if it’s false, can become true these days.’ He taps the screen. ‘Wonderful invention, Twitter. Does a demon’s job better than I ever could.’

Harriet smiles. “What, you mean Twitter wasn’t invented by Hell?”

‘Don’t they wish. Beezlebub still kicks themselves about it.’ He puts his phone away. ‘Give it a week, and this story will be all over the place.’

Harriet and Jenna giggle in triumph.

One week later, Harriet is scrubbing the Giraffe’s lunch counter, half listening to the TV in the background. “...And in other news, Thaddeus Dowling continues to deny the rumor that...” Harriet straightens, staring at the set. Her soon to be ex is standing in front of a row of microphones, looking rather flustered. “Mr. Dowling! Mr. Dowling!” Reporters shout at him, shoving their mics in his face.

“I told you over and over that there is NO TRUTH to the rumor that Roger Freeman and I had...liaisons! I don’t know why you keep persisting in this ludicrous story!”

“But the pictures?”

“FAKE! DO YOU HONESTLY THINK I WOULD BE CAUGHT DEAD WITH A FUCKING FAIRY? I’D RATHER DIE THAN LET ONE OF THOSE DISGUSTING THINGS TOUCH ME!”

There is dead silence for a full minute, then the shouting becomes even louder.

A ‘ding’ makes Harriet look at her phone. It’s a text from Crowley. ‘Check Twitter.’ She logs on, and the screen fills up with angry Tweeters.

‘Well, I’m all for voting that homophobe out.’

‘Don’t think you can vote out ambassadors.’

‘Well, let’s hope he gets fired.’

‘Yeah, from a cannon.’

‘What an ass!’

And so on. Harriet giggles, then sends a smiling devil emoji back to Crowley.

Seconds later her phone rings. Smiling serenely, she swipes to answer. “Hello?”

“You bitch, what the Hell is wrong with you?”

“Me? Thaddeus, I am afraid I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“You know damn good and well what! I don’t know how, but somehow you’re behind this!”

Harriet wipes down the wet spot on the counter. “Thaddeus, I truly do not know where you got that idea. I cannot be blamed for your...proclivities. It is hardly my fault if you got caught. However...”

“WHAT?!”

Harriet smirks in a way that would make Crowley weep with pride. “This does put us in a rather interesting position. See, I may not have known that you preferred men to women, but I do happen to know many other things that would ruin you and end your career just as quickly. Like the fact that you were verbally and emotionally abusive to Warlock and to me. And for someone like you, who put so much emphasis on what a perfect little family we were...”

“What do you want?”

“Simple. Sign the papers, Thad, and nobody needs to know the full extent of your hypocrisy. That’s all.”

Her ex’s voice is strangled. “That’s extortion!”

“No, just good old fashioned blackmail. Your choice.”

“I’ll have them signed and sent to you by next week.”

“Wonderful. I’ll text you the PO Box. And Thad?”

“What.”

“Lose my number.” With that, she hangs up, feeling like she is walking on air.

“Everything okay, Harriet?” Evelyn comes into the restaurant burdened down with bags. Harriet rushes over to help tote.

“Wonderful. I finally got my asshole husband to sign the divorce papers.” Evelyn beams and gives her a high five.

Things happen quickly after that. Two weeks after the divorce is final, and Harriet Dowling is Harriet Samuels, Thaddeus Dowling is dismissed from the position of ambassador. His outburst at the press conference has gone viral, and he is forced with the choice of resignation or political ruin. He loses his job, his standing in the community, and his home(which had only been his due to his ambassadorship). Within a month, nobody remembers that Thaddeus Dowling ever existed in the first place.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Harriet is sitting in front of a computer in the village library, staring at the words on the screen. LONDON COLLEGE OF MEDICINE. “What if I’m not accepted? What if they tell me I’m too old?”

“Mom.” Hellspawn(as they decided they wanted to be called, much to Crowley’s delight) places their hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Uncle Az said he would do what he could to help, remember?”

Harriet giggles. “Don’t let Aziraphale(she had FINALLY learned to say his name) hear you calling him Az. He’d have a fit.” Hellspawn laughs.

“I know. But he did say he’d help. So did Nanny.”

“And I will tell you what I told them. This is something I need to do on my own.” She takes a deep breath, then begins typing.


End file.
